A Freight Train Through The Bedroom
by GinHermi
Summary: *Exchange gift for Captivation* They sat every night looking at the stars and brooding about their curse. A selfless act turned out to be their worst enemy. Through it all, they managed to live together happily, for the little time they were allotted. Rated M just as a precaution.


**A/N: **To my followers: Yes, I'm alive. Sorry about not updating as regularly as usual. It's been a struggle to write anything. Even this story took me a long time to write. Thankfully, Adele and Florence + The Machine helped me get out of my black hole. FYI, my little soundtrack for this is: Skyfall and Bedroom Hymns. I wrote this fic for the lovely Captivation as part of the exchange's 3rd round. It was an absolute pleasure to write for this for her. Thank you Jandy for being an awesome mod and for beta'ing this for me. You're the best!

**Warning:** Time shifts abound.

* * *

They sat in their respective backyards, staring absent-mindedly at the clouds. They willed the sky to fall or break; at the very least they wished it would darken. During the day neither Tate nor Violet had a sense of change or movement. For a despicable reason, the day was not more than a stagnant state of dried up hopes and dreams. It was also a time during which they could not be together. It was a fate dealt to them by something worse than the curse placed upon them by the house. In fact, Tate had, for all intents and purposes, finally given his soul over to the house and the metaphorical devil inside it. He'd do it a thousand times over if it meant her freedom.

When the sun fell, they reunited. She walked into the backyard of the house and brought with her a picnic basket. It was her nightly routine. She set the basket down in the gazebo and called his name.

Tate appeared in a flash. He smiled at the sight of her.

"Hey Vi."

"Hi you. How was it today?"

"Horrible, same as always. What'd you bring with you this time?" he said pointing towards the basket.

"Well, for dinner this evening, I brought some red wine, fruit, a baguette and some cheese."

"Aren't _we _European tonight."

"Just mixing it up a little. I mixed it up with the poetry too."

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her. "What did you bring me to read?"

"Lorca" she said with a smile.

"And here I thought the first Spanish poet you'd bring would be Becquer." He kissed her gently. It was a short but loving kiss; the kind she cherished.

"Next week" was all the reply she gave him.

Violet let go of his embrace and opened the picnic basket. She took out the checkerboard blanket and placed it on the floor and brought out the bottle of wine and the glasses. She signaled Tate to come over and he sat down next to her. He served the wine for them. Tate grabbed one of Violet's hands when he finished and rubbed her wrist.

"How is everything on the other side?" he asked politely, even if he already knew the answer.

Violet shrugged. Though she appreciated the freedom that Tate had gotten for her (and for everyone else that had once inhabited the house), she lived in a bizarre state of emptiness. She had received her so-called 'freedom' the worst possible time. She had finally forgiven Tate – it was the very beginning of their together forever.

"It's bland. Like it has been for years," she finally answered after a few sips of her wine.

"What matters is that you're free."

She scoffed. "I'm free because of the only selfless act you ever did but I can't help but hate you for it."

"Come on, Vi " he said nudging her sweetly. "Don't be stupid. You still get to see me."

"Sure" she said sarcastically. "So long as its dark. You don't even get to spend Halloween away from the house anymore."

"I know."-He sighed in frustration. "But, like you said, it's the only selfless thing I've ever done and I can't take it back. Deal with it."-He said that last part a bit miffed.

No matter how well intentioned Violet was when she complained about this arrangement, Tate couldn't help but get angry. He was covered in darkness now more so than ever before and remarks like these were the easiest to make him snap. He had done what he did for _her _and to atone for what he had done to everybody else. That Violet took pains with the arrangement didn't surprise him, but hearing about it so often did. He couldn't change it now. The darkness aided his anger. She whipped her hand out of his and moved away from him.

"Don't get snippy with me, you asshole."

"I'm sorry, Vi. Could you maybe _not _bring up how unhappy you are with this _every_ night?"

"It's not all about _me_! I happen to think you deserve to be free too! Plenty of psychos lived in the house and they're running around happy and free because of what you did. But you? You're still caged."

He walked forward got closer to her. She didn't move away. He kissed her softly and then pressed his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes and whispered: "But you know _why _this caged bird sings."

She looked at him with sad eyes and stroked his cheek. "That's not funny."

"Never said it was." And with that, he finally pressed his lips to hers, slowly and lovingly relishing in the taste of his beloved light.

When they broke the kiss, they smiled at each other and went about their nightly picnic. They broke the baguette and ate it along with the other goodies Violet had brought along for them. As they ate, they thought back on the events that had changed their existences forever.

* * *

It was a Halloween like any other…except for one thing: the only ghost left inside the house was Tate. Tate had made sure that the house would be empty on purpose. He had found a way to set Violet free with the help of - he shuddered at the thought - the bottle blonde psychic with whom his mother always talked. He got his mother to speak to her by promising her to get rid of every ghost in the house except for him and Beau. The old bag agreed immediately. As quickly as he'd asked, he got an answer. This time, Billie Dean would be right…and her instructions would work just as she had thought.

The dark energy that lay at the heart of the curse of Murder House was strong. It was like some demon that saw fit to punish all that lived in the home for all the atrocities that Charles and Nora had committed. A demon whose name no person or ghost dare speak, hid its parts and influences within all the particles that composed the home. It was a demon hungry for suffering and trickery, one hungry for souls of the innocent and the wicked alike.

Billie Dean, however, had found a way to appease the dark energy by giving it the darkest soul in the house along with the original monstrosity of Dr. Montgomery's drug riddled mind. For these two, there would be no more leniencies. No future Halloweens. Nothing.

Now, the house would be impenetrable. Marcy would be unable to sell it and the city would be unable to demolish it. The house would remain and have plants grow over it until it became buried. It would remain so until it symbolized no more than the ugly old house that the neighborhood kids would throw rocks at or take pictures of and post them on the internet announcing it as the ugliest thing they'd ever seen and hoping for it to be destroyed. However, it would never be destroyed and it would never take a life away again.

Tate would willingly give himself over to set all of them free:

Nora, who had been like a mother to him and had suffered for nearly a century.

Beau, who had been dealt a shitty fate by the universe and by their mother.

Chad, who he had killed for no apparent reason at all.

Patrick, who not only had he killed, but whom he had deprived of freedom when it was but at the reach of his hand.

Dr. and Mrs. Harmon whose lives he had completely destroyed.

But most importantly, it would free the one ghost-the one person-he actually cared about and loved. Violet. She was his beautiful lighted songbird…and she did not deserve to be caged.

Billie Dean helped Tate keep all the spirits out of the house. Tate went to the basement and read the words he had been given. A shadow appeared; it was all that evil and negative energy. The one that caused the curse. When Tate was about to do the last thing he needed in order to lock himself up for eternity, Violet and Billie stomped in through the basement door.

"Tate, you can't do this!" Violet started.

"I'm sorry. I tried to stop her but she's too strong" Billie interrupted.

Violet snapped at the psychic. "Get out of here you press-on nails psychic!"

Billie knew better than to piss off an already angry ghost. She rushed out of there and left Tate and Violet to their own devices. Violet's eyes were full of anger and a fire that Tate hadn't seen in a while. Violet walked toward him and gave him a sharp slap.

A red imprint of Violet's hand appeared on Tate's cheeks. He, in turn, did not react.

"Why would you do this?!" she yelled.

"You know why." As he said this she pushed him. "I want you to be free. Like you've deserved all this time."

She stood shell-shocked. She couldn't believe he was doing this for her.

"You don't need to do this, Tate. I've already forgiven you. So have my parents."

He shrugged. "I'm doing it anyway. You Harmons deserve to be away from this shithole. You always did. I was the one that locked you here…the house and me. I'm undoing it."

"Where are we all going to go?"

"Heaven, I guess." He touched her cheek as he said that.

"Heaven doesn't exist" she replied defiantly. She no longer believed in happy endings. Not the ones that existed in Disney fairy tales, anyway.

"I guess you'll just have to see, won't you?"

Violet looked nervous and licked her lips before saying "How am I supposed to move on if you're stuck here?"

He looked at her lips momentarily, those two blushing pilgrims that had received the moisture from her sharp tongue, and he kissed them. He kissed her languidly, like he had so many years ago. When he broke the kiss, he looked at her.

"I'm not going to ask you to stay with me this time. Get out of here and never come back."

Violet broke away from him and stood firmly on the ground, crossing her arms over her chest. Tate looked at her seriously.

"Violet, don't make me force you out" he threatened. He'd never hurt her, but two words would take care of it.

"How are you going to do that?"

He smiled sadly. "You should know. You did it to me."

She gave a sarcastic laugh. "You're not going to do that to me. You wouldn't."

"I would if it meant you'd be out of here and in a better place."

"You'd be missing out. You said so yourself. The better place for you is wherever I am."

"Stop worrying about me and go before I force you."

She still gave him a defiant look. "Make me."

He walked over to her, grabbed her hands, kissed her scarred wrists and confidently said: "Go away, Violet."

Violet stared at him, stunned for a second, her voice breaking into a sob as she disappeared.

Unfortunately for Violet, when she reappeared, she was outside the house. In fact, she was on their beach. She started running back to the house but, just like the day she had found out she was dead, no matter how she tried to escape, she always remained on the beach.

Tate completed the stupid ritual he had been given. It didn't seem like anything had changed, so he waited by the gate to see what would happen by morning. And when the morning light broke through, none of the ghosts appeared. Not a single one. They were kept completely away from the house. When Tate walked inside to make sure, all he found was an empty, abandoned home. The best he could do was to go to Violet's room and see if any of her things were there. They weren't.

He explored the rest of the house and found that no one's belongings were left. The house had become bare. Though Thaddeus remained in the shadows of the basement, Tate knew that he was completely alone and not a single thing remained in the house. All that was left now were empty walls.

Violet was still at the beach and the sun was high in the sky. She had tried to leave over and over again but no matter which way she walked she always wound up back at the same spot. She would find herself sitting in front of an extinguished bonfire. It was the exact same place she had been in with Tate on their disastrous first, and only, date. Eventually she gave up and started playing with sand.

Time seemed to pass by very fast once she had begun building a large sandcastle. One minute she was beginning to construct it and the next, she had finished and it was nighttime again. Violet got it into her head that maybe, just maybe, if she walked out of the beach _now_, she would make it back to the house. Surprisingly, she did. She walked out and arrived at Murder House. She tried opening the door and growled in frustration when the door remained firmly shut. She did the next best thing she could think of:

"Tate!" she yelled.

There was silence.

"Tate! Open up!" she hollered and ran around to try the backdoor.

In the dark corner of what used to be Ben's office, Tate lay flat on the hardwood floor staring at the ceiling willing his mind to go blank. Unfortunately, he started hearing his name called by what sounded to be Violet's voice. He shook his head, hoping that the voice would stop haunting him.

Meanwhile, Violet kept banging on doors and screaming louder and louder each time. The more she called his name, the angrier she got and the more profanities ejaculated from her mouth.

"Tate, you asshole! Open the door, you stupid fucking cock!"

Violet had tried breaking the glass of the backdoor, but it just wasn't budging.

"Fuck you, Tate!" She said, punching the door so hard that she broke her hand. "Ow! Goddammit!"

When Tate heard Violet's exclamation of pain he ran to where he heard the sound and opened the door. There was Violet, nursing a bloodied, broken hand with a frown semi-permanently etched on her face and eyes that read: 'Murder'.

"Violet!" he exclaimed in complete surprise.

She just looked at him. "What's the deal? I've been screaming your name out for hours now. Let me in."

Tate stepped aside to let her walk inside the house. Violet tried but there was a force pulling her away from it. She couldn't even get to where Tate was standing. She could only stay on the porch or in the backyard. She sighed in frustration.

"It seems you're going to have to come out here."

"Why?"

"Because of whatever you did to the house, asshole. I can't come in."

Tate took two steps toward to her and grabbed her broken hand. She snapped it out of his embrace and then groaned in pain.

"If I weren't in so much pain right now, I'd punch you with my other hand."

"I'm sorry. I thought your voice was a hallucination."

"Well it's not. Obviously."

"Let me see your hand."

Violet gave Tate her hand with slight reserve. Tate looked it over and decided that the best thing to do while the hand healed itself was to put some sort of makeshift cast on it. Unfortunately, he didn't have anything with which to make one. He simply held it firmly between his two large hands and pressed it gently.

Violet winced. "What are you doing?"

"I can't make a cast for you. I'm just going to hold it like this until it heals back up."

"Am I the only one that's come back?"

"Yes. Where did you come from?"

"The beach you took me to on our first date. Whatever bizarro thing you did to the house must've affected all of us. I couldn't get off the beach until nightfall."

They stood in silence for a long while. They just looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. His penetrating dark gaze did nothing to deter her from looking at him in simultaneous wonderment and anger. Finally, Violet's pain subsided completely and she removed her hand from the warm entrapment of Tate's hands. And once she did, Tate looked at her lips for a brief moment before leaning in to give her a passionate kiss. It was like the one they had shared when they had gotten back together after she had forgiven him.

* * *

It had been years since Violet willingly saw Tate, but she figured that it was time. It was time that she stopped hurting herself. She knew that Tate had to pay for what he had done, but she also knew that _she _had been punished enough. She still loved him and denying herself for so long was no longer tolerable. She had spent too many dark hours hating herself for choosing her family over the one person who understood her the best. Sometimes she felt that her parents had stopped caring. They spent so much time together or with Geoffrey that, little by little, Violet had been forgotten. It was like she actually _had _died and they had moved on and not cared. They had been too wrapped up in themselves when they were alive. Nothing had changed now. Except for Violet. She had changed and she was going to take her rash decision back.

Tate inhabited the attic most days. Beau was the only ghost that wouldn't shy away from him and the only one that wouldn't ask him to murder anyone. The two brothers would spend time either playing with Beau's red ball or reading stories. Most of the time, they would sit in silence. The company was the best part of it all for the both of them. However, of his long days with Beau, there would be a time where he would scatter away and watch Violet.

He loved it when Violet went on picnics by herself. She would lay an old blanket down on the grass, read a book and eat something she had nicked from the kitchen when there were humans living in the house. Her parents ignored her more often than not these days and she would take to reading in the sunshine. She was so beautiful. The glow of the sun only served to make her look more ethereal to him.

It was on one of these occasions that he stared at her, that Violet decided to get up and reconcile with him. When she got up, Tate thought nothing of it and went back to his normal spot near Beau. He started playing with Beau when he heard someone climbing the stairs into the attic. He saw Violet's golden hair and was shocked.

"Violet." he said in his astonishment.

"Hello Tate" she stood in front of him and just looked at him with sad eyes. "Can we talk?"

He nodded softly. "'Course."

She grabbed his hand and led him down to what used to be their bedroom.

"I'm sorry" they both said at the same time.

She chuckled.

"Go ahead" he said in a low voice.

"I'm sorry" she said, looking at him with sincerity.

"For what?"

"I feel like I need to apologize. I'm not even sure for what. I know that I was right to tell you that you have to pay for what you did. But I underestimated how much it would hurt the both of us."

"I don't care about how much you've hurt me. I just care about you."

"I'm going to be selfish. I'm sick of feeling like shit because I abandoned you."

"You didn't abandon me, Violet. You chose to be with your family."

"You were right, though. I do need someone. My family is not enough. They weren't enough when I was alive and I have no clue why I thought that would change now that we're all dead."

Tate stood silent. He knew he had been right but he didn't want to tell her that. He saw that there was a possible silver lining and he would jump for it. Telling her that he knew that he had been right all along would only squander his chances at reconciliation.

"The point is," Violet continued, "I think we should give…'us' a second chance."

Still, he said nothing.

"Do you still love me?"

"I never stopped, Violet."

She nodded. "Good, because I realize now what I've done. I've punished myself as I've punished you. And then, a freight train full of memories would continuously barge into the vacancy of our room in a dreamlike state. Then that train becomes hypocritical and wakes me from the illusion of happiness that I had tricked myself into believing."

Instead of saying anything he gave her a long, passionate kiss. She returned it instantaneously. She whined a little whilst they kissed and, after a small while, decided to break the embrace.

"It's not going to be easy, Tate. It's going to be hard. I don't care what my parents say but I don't think I can be able to truly trust you again. You'll have to earn my trust."

"I can do that. I'll do anything to gain your trust. Anything to make you happy."

"Okay."

Just like that, they were giving their relationship a second chance. It was rather anticlimactic and they both thought so. They had built up tension and had been avoiding each other for years and all that it took for them to get back together were a few words. Perchance that had been one of the effects of the house, filling you with so much loneliness, regret and aching that once you saw your first opportunity at happiness, you'd jump for it.

For months, Tate and Violet behaved almost like they did when they had been together the first time around. This time, however, there were no lies. They were both always completely honest with each other. Even when Violet asked Tate why he had killed the kids at the high school, he had been honest. He thought he was sending them someplace better than the shithole they lived in. Then, when Tate asked Violet about how badly her parents were ignoring her, she told him the truth. This time around, they were comfortably naked with each other in every sense of the word.

Because of this state of nirvana, Tate would never tell Violet that it had become his mission to set her free.

* * *

Despite that Violet could not come into the house after Tate had opened the door, the two of them spent a lovely night together.

"I can't believe that I'm still here" she said, as the two of them lay side by side, holding hands and looking at the stars.

"I can't either. You're supposed to go to your heaven or afterlife or whatever you want to call it."

"I guess this is it for me."

"But why can't you come into the house? And why would you be stuck at the beach during the whole day?"

"I don't know. I'm just here, in this backyard, with you. Nice try on 'freeing' me" she said using air quotes and rolling her eyes at him.

He shrugged. "I freed everyone else. You're just being difficult."

They saw the first signs that the sunrise was coming and they cuddled close to each other to see it. The lightness emerged slowly, as did the variations of pinks, oranges, purples and blues. Finally, the morning sun had arrived. As it did, Tate felt the weight of Violet's body disappear and saw her body evanesce. His eyes bulged.

"Violet!" he called out to her, willing her to be hiding behind a tree or a bush.

He screamed her name at the top of his lungs for what seemed like hours to no avail. Violet had disappeared.

For her part, Violet was mighty pissed when she found herself in a beautiful place and Tate was not beside her. She sighed in defeat and frustration.

"I guess you freed me after all, asshole" she said to the skies as if Tate could hear her.

Violet tried to escape her new environment but it was much like her day at the beach. No matter which way she went or how hard she ran, she would wind up in the center of this wonderland. She figured that the best thing she could do was build some shelter. Lo and behold, just as she thought of it, the perfect small home appeared in the distance. She walked towards it with a smile. She opened the door and found perfection. She went inside and found that the library had the books on the occult that she had wanted. Within those books, she knew she would find a way to be with Tate again.

She made herself some tea and began reading. She read and read until nightfall. She found nothing. There was not one sentence in those books that said anything about their 'night only' situation. The only helpful thing it said, in regards to liberating Tate, were things Billie Dean had told her in the past and, by experience, she knew better than to make an ass of herself and try them all again. The closest she came to finding some way to free him was based on the speculation that if one destroyed the place of haunt, the ghosts haunting it would go free. Just as she wondered where she could get a bomb on such short notice, she read a big 'but' next to where it said they'd go free at the destruction of the haunt. "However, many experts believe that the destruction of the haunt destroys the souls inhabiting it altogether as opposed to sending them to another plane." She would have found this all funny before she died. Now it was just depressing. She didn't want to risk Tate disappearing forever. Never seeing him again would break her.

Once the view outside her window had become completely dark, she had a strong desire to go outside. She opened the front door, exited and found that she was once again in the yard of the Murder House. Astonished, she walked forward and as she stepped closer and closer to the place of her death, she forgot all about her dream home and didn't notice when it vanished. She ran.

"Tate!" She didn't have to call him for long. She found that he was lying down on the gazebo. He was on his side in a fetal position with his eyes shut tight.

Violet kneeled beside him and stroked his hair. She leaned down and whispered his name. His eyes opened wide and he turned around.

"Violet." He wasted no time and kissed her firmly. Once the kiss had broken, his curiosity got the better of him. "Where have you been?"

"I…don't know. Somewhere else."

He looked at her and smiled. "I _did _free you."

She smiled and shrugged. "I guess, but it doesn't matter. I'm here now."

They embraced. In the morning, however, Violet would disappear again and so it would go on every day. They both despaired at the thought that the time they had together was limited and at the fact that, one moment they could close their eyes, open them again and be apart.

Through their melancholy, however, they had managed to find some peace. Violet found out that anything she brought with her from her home at night, would travel with her to the yard. They began their nightly star gazing picnics. She'd bring different foods and drinks and she would bring books for him to read. After a while, he started reading some of the books aloud to her. She liked it and they made it part of their routine. Sometimes he would read poetry, other times he would read novels and on more than one occasion, it would be a play.

Yet nothing they did could permanently quell the spiritual festering of their insides. In this manner, the house had won. The house had separated them once again and kept them from truly being together. Sometimes Violet blamed Tate, sometimes he blamed her, sometimes they blamed the house. It got them nowhere. They resigned themselves to making the most out of a horrid situation and spend incredible nights together.

* * *

"'-My friend, I want to trade

My horse for her house,

My saddle for her mirror,

My knife for her blanket.

My friend, I come bleeding

From the gates of Cabra.

-If it were possible, my boy,

I'd help you fix that trade.

But now I am not I,

Nor is my house now my house.'"

Tate stopped reading the poem by Lorca and looked at Violet. The poem resonated with him in a big way. In the end, the house would never belong to someone and it was never his, never hers, never theirs. He could have done anything he liked to it and it would make no difference when it came to what he truly wanted. They were both living half-lives, bleeding internally for something that truly was a selfless act. Tate was no longer Tate and it wasn't because his darkness had diminished. No, he was no longer himself because he had given up every single thing that could make him happy and he had twisted them with his good intentions.

Tate hugged Violet close to him and then let go to look at her face.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry for all of this."

"I know. I complain all the time, you tell me that you're sorry all the time." She gave a dry laugh. "It's what we do nowadays."

The sun was rising and they momentarily looked at the sky. Then they turned towards each other with sad smiles.

"I have to go" she said grabbing his hands.

"I know." He squeezed her hands and lifted her fingers to his mouth in a gentle kiss.

"See you at nightfall." And with that she let his hands go and disappeared into thin air.

Tate went inside the house and lay upon the floor of what used to be their room. He shut his eyes…the world went dead.

* * *

When Tate opened his eyes, he could see things clearer than he ever had before. He was in the middle of an enormous meadow that was full of sun and surrounded by a fresh breeze that carried with it the scent of lumber and chocolate. He looked around and saw a cabin in the horizon. He decided to walk to it. He entered the cabin quietly and smiled when he say who lay inside.

Violet was sitting on a sofa in front of a fireplace reading a worn copy of Dr. Zhivago and drinking tea from a ceramic mug. She noticed his appearance and looked up.

"Hey! I've been waiting for you!" she said in a sweet tone.

He was stunned. "Really? Don't we usually meet in the backyard?"

Violet looked confused. "What backyard?"

"The one in the Murder House, you know that."

Violet set the book down and walked over to him. "Did you have some of those magic mushrooms again?"

"What are you _talking _about?"

She started getting worried. "Tate, you're acting weird. What's going on?"

"Violet, we've only been meeting in the backyard of the house at night."

"Tate…we haven't done that it a while."

"It can't be. I just went to sleep. Last night I read Lorca to you."

Violet sighed. "Tate, we were both finally free from the Murder House a century ago."

He stood there shocked. He couldn't understand what was happening. Violet rapidly understood what was happening and grabbed her phone. She was calling her father. After Vivien had forgiven Tate, Ben had finally truly come around and was always there for Tate whenever he needed him. Furthermore, when Tate had these kinds of episodes, it was only Ben that could get him out of them.

"Dad?" Violet said into the phone. When she did, Tate jumped.

"What are you doing, Vi?" Tate asked her in a whisper.

Violet ignored him and continued talking into the phone.

"Dad, it happened again…Yeah. He's forgotten everything….Ok. We'll see you in fifteen." She hung up.

Violet turned around to face Tate with worry etched on her face. "Dad's going to help you out of this….He always does."

"Always?" he asked, still confused by what was happening and by al that surrounded him.

"I can't explain what's happening to you. The last time I tried you just wouldn't believe me. Come on."

She led him to the kitchen where she got him a mug of hot cocoa. He thanked her and, as he sipped the warm beverage, her felt at ease and, in a way, happy. A while later, Ben entered through the front door of the Cabin. He gave Violet a hug and then spoke to Tate.

"Hi, Tate."

"Hey, Dr. Harmon."

"Violet told me you don't remember the present."

"No! …This isn't my present. Or at least I don't think it is."

The two men went into the small study and Violet made herself another cup of tea and sat at dining table. She still had hope that Tate would get better permanently. This wasn't the first time that he had forgotten everything that had happened after the destruction of Murder House. She always despaired when he lost himself, he was the tortured Tate once again in those instances and she hated it. She lost the Tate that had been forgiven by everyone, the Tate that no longer felt pain, anguish or longing. She lost the Tate that was now happy and didn't have a worry in the world. Above all, she lost the Tate that was no longer haunted by the obsessive shadows and voices of the house that had caused the violence in his soul.

In the study, Ben sat at the wooden chair in front of the desk and Tate sat in the sofa to its side.

"Tell me what happened, Tate."

"I woke up in a meadow, saw a cabin, went inside it and there was Violet reading and she started saying things that made no sense."

"What did she say to you that you didn't understand?"

"That she had been waiting for me. That it had been a long time since we last met in the backyard or even saw Murder House. While we waited for you, she told me that everyone has forgiven me. Nothing sounds truthful."

"It sounds too good to be true?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes, things are true and there's no explanation for it. It's like when we were in that damn house for so long. We were dead, but we were conscious and our souls were trapped. It's a truth that has no logic and no explanation. It's been a century since it was all destroyed. Close your eyes, lay back, and try to remember."

Tate followed the doctor's orders and, as he did, memories started trickling into his mind. He remembered a world's apocalypse happening. He remembered that the sky actually fell because the sun had died. He remembered how dark the world got and how the cold was so awful that, even dead, he felt it seep into his bones. He recalled how the house had collapsed on itself because the earth died soon after the sun. When the house collapsed, it had been like he had gone to sleep. He remembered that subsequently he found himself in that meadow for the first time and when he got to the cabin, Violet was overjoyed and relieved to see him. The world had literally gone to shit and she had hated that he stuck around to watch it end. _How_ he was freed and able to come home to her, they could only guess. It didn't matter. The point was, that he was now free to be with Violet.

Then he remembered visiting Vivien's heaven for the first time. How her heaven was a large garden mainly composed of blue roses and how she smelled of nothing but roses and spoke words sweeter than honey. Vivien had forgiven him. In another part of this plane they now lived in, he saw that the dead breakfast club had finally thrived and forgiven him for everything. Then, he remembered that Ben had forgiven him. And how Violet had forgiven her parents. Then he remembers that he and the Harmons went out on family picnics at the beach every Sunday. Everything he had never thought possible had _become _possible and it was _his_ reality.

He shot up and looked at Ben.

"I remember now."

Ben smiled. "You seem very alert this time. I think you won't forget again."

"I hope so. I didn't give you my blessings to be with my daughter to have you make her suffer."

Tate laughed.

Ben smiled. "Go. Get out of here. Tell Violet you're all right."

Tate ran out of there and hugged Violet even if she was still sitting at the dining table. She beamed.

"You remember."

"I do. I'm sorry I forgot again."

She turned around and looked at him. "It's not your fault. I just hope that you don't forget again."

"Your dad doesn't think I will."

"Yeah but my dad tends to be wrong."

"Not all the time."

Violet laughed.

Ben walked out silently and let the young couple have their alone time.

Tate pulled Violet out of her chair and hugged her tightly.

"I've missed you" he said.

"You saw me four hours ago" she responded while rolling her eyes.

"Exactly. It's been a long time."

"You're such a sap."

"You like me this way" he said with a smile.

She smiled. It was true and she couldn't deny that. She liked Tate's corniness. Somehow it was endearing in him. Tate started kissing her neck and lapping at her skin. She panted a bit.

"You missed me like this more, didn't you?" she asked as she gripped a bit of his hair.

"You have no idea." He retreated from her neck and looked at her lips all the while caressing them with his thumb. She poked her tongue out and licked his intruding digit. He chuckled and removed his finger before framing her face with his hands and kissing her. Little by little, they opened their mouths and toyed with each other's tongues as they started pulling at their clothes.

They were overwhelmed by the desire to be as close to each other as humanly possible. Both of them wanted to feel their skin meeting and they wanted it now. He removed her cardigan without breaking the kiss and she removed his belt and pulled down his jeans. They broke the kiss so that they could remove his cardigan and her dress, respectively. Once those hit the floor, they were left in their underwear. Violet laughed loudly when Tate grabbed her and carried her bridal style to their room. He dropped her on the bed and climbed on top of her.

"Bridal style, Tate?"

"Like you care." He loomed over her and lay her completely down on the bed before kissing her again. She kissed back and gasped when she felt his fingers dragged down her body until they reached her panty-covered pussy. Her body was already tingling but when Tate sidestepped her panties and slid his fingers inside her, it was like she had been lit on fire. Tate enjoyed watching Violet react to him. He loved how she shut her eyes tight and turned her face to one side, letting out little baby moans and panting while he fingered her. He leaned down and kissed her neck, taking in her sweet scent and tasting her skin. He sat her up and removed her bra and then she took off her panties and his boxers.

They were completely exposed to one another and the first thing they did was embrace. Their chests were pressed together and their arms wrapped around each other's backs.

"I love you, Violet."

"I love you too."

He was so relieved that they could have this time together. Knowing that they could fall asleep and she'd still be there in the morning. It was things like this that made the past awful and not worth remembering. Tate hated that he had regressed to it. Violet was just happy that he remembered where he was again.

They lay back down and kissed for a long while, groping each other until finally, as he placed a kiss on her breast, Tate slid inside Violet and they both groaned at the sensation. They loved when they were together like this. They moved together slowly but deeply. Tate hit her g-spot every time with a practiced ease and Violet moved her hips in the ways she knew he liked. They both relished in the noise of their bodies slapping together and of their erratic breathing and held onto each other as they climaxed together.

In the aftermath, they simply cuddled. She wrapped herself around him and her hair draped over his shoulder. This was not the wildest of their sexual encounters and it certainly wasn't the most orgasmic, but it was the most emotional. Something about the day made them believe that there would be no more altercations. That Tate would never return to believing that they only met at night; that he'd now recognize that those times were past.

Without them knowing it, the freight train that Violet had once mentioned, the one full of memories, had entered their room that night. This time, the room wasn't empty but the memories still came in a dreamlike state and it was still hypocritical. It did wake them up during its passing. Nevertheless, this time, instead of carnage and aching, it awoke them to the happy reality they so long waited for and deserved.


End file.
